11 Flying Solo - My Sister the Vampire

by Sienna Mercer

  Inside, Petra had doodled a picture of a boy and a girl perched side-by-side on a coffin while holding hands. In curling script, she’d labelled the girl ‘Me’ and the boy ‘Etan’. Hearts wrapped themselves around the border of the drawing, coloured in with red ink. Petra must have a serious crush!

  ‘Cool sketches,’ said Ivy, running her fingers over the page.

  ‘That’s not all. The best bit is the poem,’ Petra explained, turning the page. Ivy scanned the lines of writing, catching words like ‘burning’, ‘passion’, and ‘darling’.

  A love poem? Ivy thought. It was a little cheesy for her taste.

  ‘I’ve never been able to write my poetry in class before.’ Petra hugged the notebook to her chest. ‘The teachers are always way too eagle-eyed. But while you were keeping Avisrova occupied in the lesson today, I got to pen this! I’m sticking close to you!’ She squeezed Ivy’s arm.

  ‘Um . . . thanks?’ said Ivy. She was glad she could help Petra, but she hadn’t planned on annoying a teacher so soon after arriving at the Academy, and she wasn’t sure she cared much about giving Petra opportunities to write silly love poems. Still, she thought, at least someone can see a bright side to me getting detention!

  Petra stuffed her notebook back in her satchel and pulled out her phone to check the time. ‘We’ve got five minutes until class. We better get going.’

  Together, they stepped outside on to the lush Wallachia grounds. The grass sparkled with dew and Ivy took a deep breath, enjoying the aroma of the gardenia bushes that lined the stone walkway. All around them, young vampire students were lounging under shady oak trees, propped up against the trunks highlighting textbooks. Others were running around the lawn tossing frisbees. The scene looked like something out of one of those teen prep-school dramas Olivia watched on TV.

  Petra and Ivy headed towards the school hall, where choir practice was due to start.

  ‘See that over there?’ asked Petra. ‘That’s the Gauntlet.’ Petra pointed towards a hill that sloped away from the girls’ dormitory before ending in a dense forest, filled with tall pines and broadleaved evergreens. Poison ivy writhed up tree trunks and red berries hung heavily from bushes. The forest floor was dense with leaves and nasty patches of nettles squatted at the base of tree trunks, waiting to sting anyone walking past.

  Ivy stopped walking, cupping her hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun. ‘What’s a gauntlet?’

  ‘The Gauntlet,’ Petra corrected her. ‘It’s what Wallachia Academy uses to keep girls and boys apart outside of lesson time. Haven’t you noticed that the only time we see the boys is when they’re on their way back to their dorm rooms or from their lessons? The Gauntlet is what separates our living quarters.’

  The forest was dark and thick. Ivy didn’t know how someone could see more than two centimetres in front of their face in there, much less sneak through for a romantic tryst. The school board at Wallachia Academy really don’t want the girls and boys mixing! Ivy thought. What was the problem? If she’d been kept apart from Brendan like that back in Franklin Grove . . . Ivy shuddered. She didn’t want to think about it. She might have been hundreds of miles away from her boyfriend right at that moment, but she knew they’d be reunited one day soon – and there wouldn’t be any stupid Gauntlet to keep them apart.

  Petra shook her head, staring out over the trees. ‘If only there wasn’t this big old forest in the way.’ She gave a deep sigh. ‘Etan dorms over there. I wonder what he eats for breakfast . . .’

  Ivy glanced sideways at Petra. She could swear blind she saw the glisten of tears in her eyes. Oh, please.

  Then Petra looked at her hopefully. ‘Of course, with you here, anything could happen now. Just think! One day I might even get to have a proper conversation with Etan. You know, if you keep the teachers distracted.’

  Hold it right there! Ivy thought. Was Petra only hanging around with her because she thought Ivy’s talent for trouble would provide a good cover? Hello! I’m not a human decoy! Or was she genuinely opening up to Ivy? Petra seemed so confident most of the time; Ivy was sure she wouldn’t talk to most of the other students like this.

  Ivy sighed. One nice thing about Franklin Grove – the people were a lot simpler. I almost wish I was back there . . . I wonder what Brendan’s doing right now? Just thinking this made her feel a bit more sorry for Petra. It hurt Ivy to be so far from her boyfriend and it must really hurt Petra to know that the boy she liked was just on the other side of this forest.

  ‘I’ve had an idea,’ Ivy said, walking over to inspect one of the trees on the edge of the Gauntlet. It looks sturdy enough – surely it can take two girls scrambling up into its branches . . . ‘Shall we?’ she asked, turning back to her friend.

  ‘Shall we what?’ asked Petra.

  ‘Take a peek!’ Ivy patted the thick tree trunk.

  Petra looked from Ivy to the tree and back to Ivy. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me! We can’t.’ Petra shook her head rapidly. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Etan might be over there.’ Ivy smiled innocently. ‘Besides, we have a couple of minutes to kill, don’t we?’

  Petra set her jaw, practically glaring at the tree. ‘You’re right. I have to see him. Give me a boost.’

  Ivy held out her hands, lacing her fingers together to form a step for Petra like she had seen her sister do during cheerleading practice. She lifted Petra to the lowest branch and in turn Petra reached out a hand to help Ivy up. Together, they scrambled to a higher branch.

  ‘Can you see them?’ Ivy asked, breathing hard.

  Petra pointed. ‘There, on the sports field. There’s a bunch of boys playing.’ Ivy watched them running around in their rugby shirts, waiting for the match to start.

  ‘This is crazy.’ Ivy laughed, even though she wasn’t sure she really thought it was funny. ‘It’s like we’re living in one big zoo and the boys are the main exhibit.’

  Petra clutched her heart. ‘I wish we had better views, then. Up close and personal.’

  This girl has it bad! ‘Yeah,’ Ivy said, leaning back against the trunk, her legs dangling from the branch she was sitting on. ‘Back in Franklin Grove I got to hang out with my boyfriend all the time. He was one of my best friends. I can’t imagine . . . living like this.’

  The two of them fell quiet. Beside her, Ivy could sense Petra holding her breath, probably hoping for a glance of Etan.

  There was the sound of a twig snapping and an adult’s voice called from the base of the tree.

  ‘You two, what are you doing up there?’ A long-nosed teacher with circular spectacles peered up at them from below.

  Ivy and Petra looked at each other wide-eyed and scrambled down.

  ‘Coming!’ called Ivy.

  She dropped to the ground only a moment after Petra, brushing off her uniform.

  ‘Sorry, Miss . . . um . . .’

  ‘Kornikova,’ said the woman, like she’d just swallowed a spoonful of curdled milk.

  ‘Miss Kornikova. Right.’ Ivy tried to look innocent. ‘You see, we were just preparing for our first Herbal Science class this afternoon and – oh, look at the time! We better get going!’

  Ivy grabbed Petra’s hand and the two of them scurried away, walking fast past the forest. Petra had fallen silent and Ivy was glad to be left to her thoughts for a few moments. That was a close call!

  The two of them sat through lessons that felt more like torture for Ivy: choir practice, which involved singing Gothic chants, and then on to Domestic Science, where they were taught the finer points of making steak tartare. Ivy loved Gothic songs, but her newly long fangs kept catching on her gums. And although she loved eating steak tartare, she hated chopping up the meat with the raw egg! Where’s Horatio when you need him?

  Finally it was time for Herbal Science. They headed towards a large, glass greenhouse. This was one class that Ivy was actually looking forward to. Around the time of Prince Alex and Tessa’s royal wedding, Ivy had discovered her knack for vampire botany. Olivi
a had been mistakenly treated with vampire medicine after she’d fallen into a nasty patch of Bloodbite Nettles. With the help of the Lazar family herbal scientist, Helga, Ivy had created a poultice, mixing plants and potions to cure her twin sister.

  Ivy and Petra arrived outside the state-of-the-art greenhouse with its whirring fans and electric sprinklers. Half a dozen metal tables were set up behind a chalkboard, with stools lined up along both sides of the tables. Potted plants hung in baskets above, their tendrils snaking through the air.

  ‘Good afternoon, class!’ From behind a screen, an older vampire woman emerged, wearing a dark-green apron and canvas gloves. Her frizzy grey hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail and streaks of dirt covered both her cheeks.

  ‘Helga?’ Ivy blurted before she could stop herself. ‘I didn’t know you were teaching here.’

  ‘Ivy Vega!’ Helga peeled off her gloves and rushed over, her hand extended. Ivy was about to pull Helga to her in a hug when she noticed something sparkling on her ring finger. She froze, staring at Helga’s hand. It was a sparkly antique diamond ring. ‘You’re engaged!’ she exclaimed.

  Helga gave Ivy a shy smile. ‘Horatio proposed yesterday. We decided we didn’t have any time to waste!’

  Olivia and Ivy had witnessed the butler’s crush on Helga develop into full-blown love during the run up to the royal wedding. Olivia had thought it was the most romantic thing ever and even Ivy had to admit she was pleased to see these two lovely people sharing secret glances. It had been like watching two old-style Hollywood actors politely charm each other in one of those rainy Saturday afternoon black-and-white movies.

  ‘Really? That’s killer!’ This time she did pull Helga in for a heartfelt hug.

  ‘Do they know each other?’ Ivy heard one of the other students ask. ‘I thought she came from some dorksville place called Franklin Grove.’

  Helga pulled away, flattening her hair back into place. ‘Um, class?’ she said, returning to the front of the room. ‘I’m sure you are wondering what I am doing here. Miss Petrovsky had a sudden change of heart. She decided to retire. Something about allergies and children and a bad case of the sucker-footed bat pox. Anyway, please allow me to introduce myself. The Academy would like you to call me Miss Peneve but –’ she glanced over her shoulder – ‘I would like you to call me Helga.’

  Ivy took her place at one of the desks. Petra was watching, her brow creased in a frown, as though she was annoyed to see Ivy with a friend from the past. But nothing could spoil Ivy’s delight at seeing Helga and remembering the good times they’d spent together, mixing potions.

  Maybe good things can happen at Wallachia, after all, she thought, feeling the pleasure rising through her. Things were definitely looking up.

  Chapter Four

  Deep breaths, Olivia, deep breaths, she told herself. We’re twins, remember? Identical twins.

  Olivia’s palms were sweating and she kept jiggling her right knee. She was totally going to give it away, especially if the layers of goth make-up she had painted on started dripping off her face. I have to calm down. She’d pulled off looking like Ivy before and she could do it again – couldn’t she?

  Olivia was standing in the winner’s line at the box office that was set up in Franklin Fields. Sophia and Brendan stood waiting in line with her, among all the super-fans clad in band T-shirts. Brendan was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, looking both nervous and excited. He pulled his hands out of his jacket, giving her an undercover thumbs-up and a sly smile that was probably supposed to be encouraging, but came out more Dracula-style sinister.

  ‘You’re going to be fine!’ He thumped her on the back.

  ‘Really?’ she asked. She wasn’t quite so sure. She’d done her best to research Ivy’s favourite band, searching through fan sites on the Internet, but would she really manage to kid everyone that she was the rightful owner of the tickets Ivy had won? ‘Are you sure I’m doing . . . OK?’ She looped her thumb and index finger into a circle, holding up her three other fingers.

  ‘Totally,’ Sophia reassured her with an arm squeeze.

  I’m actually pulling this off! She only felt a little bit bad about the fibs that she’d have to tell in order to help Brendan. Look how pumped he and Sophia were! Their happiness had to offset at least some of her guilt, didn’t it?

  Olivia couldn’t believe it when Brendan had eventually explained the favour that he needed from her. Two weeks before she and Ivy had left for Transylvania, Ivy had entered her name into a competition for three VIP passes to see The Pall Bearers, her absolute favourite angry metal band. By the time the winners were announced, she had been on a plane over the Atlantic. Ivy had won the tickets – Brendan had been copied in on the email as he was listed as an invitee Ivy would bring with her – but now she wasn’t around to claim them! Of course Olivia had ended up agreeing to help. She couldn’t leave Brendan and Sophia in the lurch.

  ‘I can’t believe we’re actually here!’ Brendan said now, pumping his fist. ‘Who would have thought Ivy would actually win?’

  Olivia wished that Brendan would hold off celebrating until they were in the clear. She hadn’t actually picked the tickets up yet. ‘I’m just sorry Ivy can’t be here,’ Olivia said weakly. Seriously. You have no idea how much I wish my twin was here instead of me. ‘Missing all this? She’s going to feel like she’s been staked!’

  ‘She had a lot on her mind,’ said Sophia. ‘It’s understandable that she forgot about entering the competition.’ Both she and Brendan had been completely understanding, but this was The Pall Bearers they were talking about. When news came out about the tickets, what were they supposed to do? Miss out on the greatest band ever?

  Olivia knew Ivy would feel dreadful if her decision to attend Wallachia had kept her friends from enjoying an event of a lifetime. So, here she was, trying to do the best, most convincing Ivy impression she had ever done. Her Hollywood life may be on hold, but that didn’t stop Olivia from acting her socks off!

  Olivia tugged at the baggy black T-shirt she was wearing – so not her style – but Sophia and Brendan could only get tickets if the winner, a certain Ivy Vega, claimed them personally, and the man at the box office had Ivy’s photo on file from her original application. Olivia took another step forwards in line. It was almost her turn.

  ‘We’d better cut out,’ said Brendan, ducking under the velvet ropes and out of line.

  ‘Good luck,’ whispered Sophia in her ear.

  Olivia pulled a compact out of the pocket of her torn jeans. Olivia studied her reflection. Black wig? Check. Pale make-up? Check. Grungy clothes that may or may not need to go in the laundry? Check, check, check.

  Now only two people separated her from the front of the line. Olivia refused to sneak another look over at Brendan and Sophia. Just keep calm and you’ll get through it. It will be fine.

  ‘What was the first Pall Bearers song to top the Transylvania Billboard Charts?’ she overheard the bearded man working inside the box office ask the teenager standing first in line.

  In order to redeem their prize, each winner had to answer a trivia question about the band to prove their fandom. Even though it was a warm evening, a spike of cold went through Olivia’s heart.

  ‘“Welcome To My Frightmare”!’ the winner answered enthusiastically.

  ‘That is . . . correct!’ The box office man handed over the tickets. ‘Next!’

  Olivia was shivering with nerves. Sophia had spent all day helping her study, but what if they asked something she didn’t know? Come to think of it, Olivia wasn’t sure she could remember anything!

  She stared blankly at the back of the head of the person in front of her as the bearded man asked, ‘What is the lead singer’s cat’s name?’

  Olivia felt like someone had shaken her brain and erased it like an etch-o-sketch.

  ‘Zombie Gray!’ answered the girl, who was wearing fishnet stockings and knee-high boots. She took her tickets and waved them around.


  It was Olivia’s turn. She shuffled forwards as if on autopilot.

  ‘Name?’ the man asked, scratching at his beard and looking bored.

  Olivia squared her shoulders. ‘Ivy Vega.’

  He rifled through his list of winners. ‘Vega, Vega . . . Ah, here you are.’ He looked from the picture to Olivia and back at the picture again. Olivia held her breath. ‘Right,’ he continued. ‘Your question is: What is the third line in the second song on the first album?’

  Say what?! This was definitely not something they had studied. Olivia felt herself go whiter than the shade of Pale Beauty make-up she was wearing. How was she going to wing this?

  Eyes wide, she looked over at Brendan and Sophia, who had already begun performing a ridiculous game of charades. Olivia squinted. She knew they were trying to tell her the answer, but what on earth were they miming?

  Sophia was furiously tapping her chest with one hand and pointing at Brendan with the other, while Brendan had brought his fingertips together in a sharp point and was making swift prodding motions into the air.

  Chest? No. Heart? Love . . . thumping . . . pointy thing . . . crying?

  Olivia shook her head, turning back to the man at the box office, who was now reading the sports pages, waiting for Olivia to respond. Might as well give it a try, she thought.

  ‘This love is like a stake in the heart ?’ she said.

  He peeled his eyes away from the newspaper to read the answer sheet. ‘Here you go,’ he said, sliding three tickets towards her. Olivia snatched them. Seriously? I did it? She wanted to jump for joy, but she was pretty sure goths weren’t allowed to show that much enthusiasm about anything. Instead, she walked coolly over to Brendan and Sophia, wondering: Who would listen to a song about love and stakes?